


Something Escalates Quite Quickly

by knighthooded



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 16:49:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5256008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knighthooded/pseuds/knighthooded
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jehan is just a normal guy, although he does have an unfortunate obsession with the supernatural.</p><p>Bahorel is just a vampire, trying to live life to the fullest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Escalates Quite Quickly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhatAboutAngels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatAboutAngels/gifts).



From the moment Jehan had opened Frankenstein, he knew his life was changed forever. But just to be sure of this fact he had also read Byron, Stoker, Blake, Brontë and Le Fanu in the span of mere months. Some people called it an obsession, but Jehan knew better. For him literature had reached its peak in the long 19th century, nothing better had come after the Romantics and the Gothic Romances. He eschewed realism, both in life and in art, flat out refusing to work hard enough to live comfortably, insisting on the – to many – worn out ‘suffering for his art’. But there was more.

When Jehan was eighteen he had seen a werewolf, he was sure of it. It had been a night with a full moon, and he had been out, deep in the woods, as he often was at such spiritually significant times. The blue light had made every shadow seem important, the stillness everything relevant. He’d been content to just wander until he came upon a meadow where lots of shrubs had been broken of their stems, and even some of the trees had cuts in them. For a moment there had been a rush in the undergrowth, and he thought he saw something disappear into it. From that point Jehan had known there existed such things as werewolves.

“Wait, that’s all?” Bossuet had said when he had told him.

“Yes,” Jehan had answered in a dignified voice. “That’s all.”

And from that moment on he had been on the hunt for any and all supernatural beings. After a year he had decided to drop zombies and related creatures, because science of all things had made a lot of development regarding them and Jehan didn’t want to be too much associated with all that.

But he had made a lot of progress when it came to the vampires of Paris. So much, in fact, that one December he was quite certain of where it was they met once a moon cycle. He wasn’t sure of what to do next, however. The thought of getting kidnapped was thrilling, that of getting killed less so.

He still hadn’t decided what to do when one morning one of the vampires came to talk to him. Jehan had been hiding in a comfy coffee shop across the street, occupied with looking at the frozen stones that made up the pavement and the building around him. There was no snow, but it was still truly winter: everyone in a hurry not to be outside, the trees robbed of their leaves… The vampire came inside without a coat, walked over to Jehan’s table and promptly started to drink his coffee.

“Umm,” Jehan weakly said. “Excuse me…”

“What do you want?”

“It’s just that… you’re drinking _my_ coffee.”

“And just what are you going to do about it?” The vampire smiled broadly. “Fight a vampire over a cup of barely drinkable coffee?”

“I think it’s just cooled down a bit since… no, wait, that’s not the point. You just admitted you were a vampire!”

The guy shrugged, but Jehan’s heart was strongly hammering away. What was going to happen next? Why was the vampire so relaxed? Was Jehan safe? Did he want to be? Jehan’s thoughts were racing to see their answers.

“The problem isn’t so much the fact that I’m a vampire, as it is the fact that you’ve been snooping around. Always this coffee shop right across the street, almost constantly looking at out building.” The vampire took another sip. “I gotta say – subtle you are not.” He emptied the cup in one gesture, and then slammed it back onto the table. Jehan was sure it almost broke.

“Should vampires drink coffee?” Jehan asked tentatively. He had meant to draw the vampire’s attention to something more innocuous, but with little success. The vampire now leaned over the table towards him, face split into a grin.

“What else do you want me to drink? Your blood?”

Jehan paused, considering this perhaps a little too long for the vampire’s liking.

“Dude, I’m not going to drink your blood. What’s wrong with you?”

This deeply offended Jehan. “What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? You don’t even look like a proper vampire. I mean, what’s up with that rough beard, those scars, those… muscles? And now you won’t even drink my blood?”

The vampire raised an eyebrow.

“You want me to wear a cape, slick back my hair, say ‘bleh’ a lot? Because I’ll never, ever do that… well maybe for Halloween.”

“But you look so much like a werewolf.”

“Oh, now that’s just great. I come here with only the best of intentions, and there you go insulting me. I tell you, I could just – ”

“Drink my blood?” Jehan suggested.

“Stop saying that. Trust me, you do not want me to drink your blood – and that is not why I’m here.”

“If you’re not here to abduct me…” The vampire may or may not have physically recoiled. He did not seem angry, however, more amused in an annoyed way.

“God,” the vampire said. “Let’s do this again. I’m Bahorel – ” he held out his hand “ – yes, I’m a vampire, no I’m not here to kill you.”

“Sorry,” Jehan mumbled, and then said in a clearer voice: “I’m Jehan, investigator of the supernatural.” Bahorel snorted. “And I am not above complimenting your awesome shirt.”

“You like it?” Bahorel sprang up eagerly to give Jehan a better view. It was a tank top covered in grumpy cats, and white letters that said: ‘Got Milk?’ It wasn’t too tight, but Jehan still had ample view of Bahorel’s strong, solid frame.

“The people in the coven thought it was a shit shirt, so I told them it was meant to be ironic. Then they came after me with all kinds of definitions of irony. I said that my calling it ironic was meant ironically – they chased me out.”

“Vampires don’t sound like a lot of fun,” said Jehan.

“They totally are, didn’t I just tell you how I got chased out of a building for using a word as I saw fit? They’re ridiculous. Hyper-violent, maybe, but that’s half the fun.”

“Right.”

“So anyway – what are we going to do about our little situation?”

“Situation?” Jehan asked innocently.

“Yeah. Nice try. Vampires in general don’t much like being spied on.”

“But there are vampires that do like it?”

Bahorel shrugged. “Thing is, the vampires across the road don’t like it, I can’t speak for the other ones… My vampires don’t really trust that you won’t run your mouth to – what was it? – ‘paranormal investigators’ that operate on a bigger scale. We’ve been living the high life without them on our case. You could be a real nuisance.” Bahorel fixed his warm brown eyes on Jehan, who felt tingly all of a sudden.

“I don’t want to be a nuisance,” he said slowly, turning the ring on his right hand. “I kind of, sort of wanted the world to be…”

“More interesting than it seems?”

“Yeah.” Bahorel had finished the sentence much better than Jehan could have. He felt small, much smaller than he had ever felt before. But it wasn’t because it was Bahorel who had said it, even though they barely knew each other, Jehan trusted him enough to not feel small because of him.

“Don’t worry, I get it, it’s – fuck. Get under the table.”

Before Jehan had time to move of his own accord he had been pulled underneath the table, head squashed against Bahorel’s knee. Jehan felt warm and uncomfortable, for reasons obvious and reasons not altogether clear. To distract himself he started counting the pieces of chewing gum stuck to the roof of the table. First the washed out pink, then the white and then the bluish, this while Bahorel and a stranger were talking.

“I don’t remember you being asked to lounge in coffee shops.”

“Nor was I asked to clean up our conference room, and yet I did do that. All by myself.”

“Only because you made a big mess of it in the first place. And that’s completely beside the point! You weren’t asked to make polite conversation.”

“Nothing polite about it.”

“Bahorel! You can hide him underneath this table all you want, but we’ll still have his head!” Jehan’s lungs tensed up, but he made no move.

“Ah come on, don’t be mean, he doesn’t mean any harm.”

“And can you claim the same for yourself?”

There was a scuffle. Jehan’s head was pushed against the table, twisting his neck. Bahorel’s knee disappeared and he fell against the seat, but was then pulled out from underneath the table by a thin hand whose nails dug into Jehan’s skin.

He only got to see a flash of the café before a flash of pink pummeled into his stomach and he was half carried, half thrown across the room towards the exit.

“Run,” was all that Bahorel said. He then turned around and charged back in. Jehan wanted to linger, but sense got the better of him and he turned around to flee in the direction of anything but the café. He couldn’t go home, or to any other place he was a regular at, so for a while he was stuck running through the streets, his lungs burning and his muscles aching. Still, he didn’t dare stop running, constantly seeing faces of possible pursuers among the crowds.

He only halted when he was sure his body would give up if he didn’t. Clutching his knees, Jehan counted his own ragged breaths.

“You humans sure run fast,” a slippery voice came from behind him.

“Well,” Jehan panted. “That’s something we do when we’re chased by things that are out to kill us.” The person who had spoken was exceedingly pretty and extremely well dressed. He leaned against the alley wall, removing non-existent dirt from his nails.

“I could have told you three blocks ago that I’m not sure if I’m going to do that yet.”

“Not really good enough for me,” Jehan answered.

“Ah, but surely you knew that it was curiosity that killed the cat. And that to go looking for vampires isn’t a very safe business.”

“I know, I know.”

“You don’t really regret it,” the vampire remarked. Jehan had no answer for him. “But what goes around, comes around. Wouldn’t you agree?” He continued.

“Montparnasse, don’t play with your food,” said Bahorel, seemingly appearing out of thin air, looking no different from when he had been sitting across Jehan.

“I wasn’t playing – I was talking, and very civilly so, I might add.” He turned to face Bahorel, though Jehan had the distinct feeling that Montparnasse still had his eyes on him. “What do you want Bahorel?”

“You get overenthusiastic with prey, all I want is for you to hand him over to me. I’ll give him to them, alive and well. I promise.”

“Oh, that’s hardly your intention. You were just fighting with what’s-their-name, and helped him” (he jabbed a finger in Jehan’s direction) “to escape. Not that I blame you, he is quite attractive.”

“Montparnasse,” sighed Bahorel. “ Much as I like you, I am not much like you. So you’ll have to excuse me for not agreeing with your idea of things.” Montparnasse shrugged.

“Whatever, I have no intention of being a traitor to get other people’s approval. And I also don’t much feel like fighting you tonight – though of course it’s been way too long. I’ll leave.” He gave a sarcastic little bow, and then disappeared out of sight.

Hesitant to speak, Jehan just kind of gawked at Bahorel.

“You feeling okay?”

“I’ve, I’ve definitely felt better.” This made Bahorel laugh.

“I don’t doubt that you have.”

“So are we safe?” This made Bahorel laugh even harder.

“Hell no. They’re probably still hot on our heels.”

“Oh.”

Snow had begun to fall, but its presence was, if anything, rather anachronistic. The alley contained a big dumpster, puddles with yesterday’s rain, and two fire escapes; any snow attached to it would do nothing to make it picturesque. What Jehan did find worth noticing were the pure, white snowflakes that had settles in Bahorel’s dark beard.

“So what do we do now?” he eventually asked, interrupting Bahorel, who was looking at his phone.

“Well I was thinking coffee. What about you?”

“But won’t they follow us, kill us?”

“They’ll probably get bored, but it’s possible that they’ll follow us around for years to come.”

“Really?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Why?”

“Sometimes I get these ideas about right and wrong. It’s kind of embarrassing, really. But you don’t deserve to die because of a fan obsession gone wrong. And besides, fighting them is fun and easy. It’ll be a nice hobby on the side.”

“Right, um – thank you.”

“So, how about coffee? Real coffee this time.”

“I told you, it had just gotten cold is all.” Jehan caught himself smiling.

They walked off to find another café, arm in arm. Jehan’s life changed forever, Bahorel’s not significantly so, but definitely for the better.


End file.
